


You'll Be Faded Soon

by louis_ass



Category: the 1975 - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Depression, Drugs, M/M, Mental Illness, Smut, gay af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louis_ass/pseuds/louis_ass
Summary: "To offer you a party favor," George says, as if it's obvious. He holds out the palm of his hand, revealing two small orange pills. "One for each of us."Matty frowns, eying the pills suspiciously. "What's the catch?" he asks, eyes flitting up to the other's face."Just your company."---or Matty goes to a party with Jesse and George dabbles in the art of drug dealing





	You'll Be Faded Soon

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to 'Tiffany Blews' by Fall Out Boy a lot while writing this. It's not really anything like the song, but if you're one of those people that enjoys listening to music whilst reading, I'd suggest playing that particular piece. 
> 
> Also this was not beta'ed

  
Matty holds the lighter above his head, watching the flame dance before his dark eyes. The colors blur and dance against a dark backdrop, burning thoughts into the back of his head that would later turn to ash and wash away with the dawning of a new day. He can feel himself slowly falling apart with each exhale and that. That will not do.

He sits up, blood rushing to his head as he does so. He bites his lip and looks around the shitty flat's contents, landing on the three men he'd dubbed his friends, all sharing the other couch. He huffs, spinning the lighter between his fingers. "Oi, Ross. Where's Jess at?"

A dark-haired, turtle-neck clad man raises his brows, frowning. "Why the hell would I know?" he asks gruffly, passing the joint clasped between two fingers on to John. "Do I look like I'm Devon or something?"

Matty rolls his eyes, swinging his tooth-pick-esque legs around so his feet were firmly planted on the ground and fuck. He feels kind of dizzy. Like his head might take off and leave his body behind. "I need something," he says quickly, blinking and drawing a snort from Ross.

"Matty, you're fine. Just your normally pompous and overdramatic arse."

But said man ignores this biting statement, all too used to his best mate's snark, and pushes himself up, stumbling a bit as he does so. He looks outside the small window into the darkness and for a moment considers what would happen if he were to just open it and let his body topple out. Free-fall for an eternity whilst the moon's shine dims away to leave him wrapped in darkness for decades to come. He pushes himself away, swallowing and running a hand through his hair. His fingers snag at a rat's nest and he frowns, contemplating forcing his fingers through the knot. Instead, Matty lets his hand drop to his side and ambles through the dimly-lit hallway. He thinks he hears Adam call out, but he's too stuck inside his own head, hand reaching out to graze rough fingertips against the wall as he glides forward.

When he reaches a bedroom that's been left open, Matty enters wordlessly, plopping down next to a brunette with tattoos littering his whole body. Watches as he sorts through some papers, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Everything around them is disorganized, much like everything in their lives. It also reeks of weed, and Matty is pretty sure that somewhere here is a small baggie of coke. Wonders if it'll help him sort his head out if he gives in for the night.

"Jess," Matty breathes, leaning into his friend's side.

The other jumps as if he hadn't noticed the other's presence-which is a possibility. Jesse tends to lose himself in a similar fashion as Matty. Just doesn't escape to the same dreary world where Matty's breath cuts off and his eyes flutter shut. His escape act isn't destined to finality.

"I need to get out of here," he continues, breathing shakily. He means his head; he feels trapped. Chained to a pointless life with a dead end at the end of his alleyway and nothing to prove his own worth to himself.

Jesse takes it a different way, wrapping an arm around the skinny boy. "I think there's a house party going on," he hums out, voice tilted with just a hint of excitement.

Thing is, Matty hates house parties. Hates having to deal with a bunch of knob heads sloshing beer onto him and tripping in a room full of complete strangers. It makes him feel even more alone, like he's dancing through a room of ghosts. Or maybe he's the ghost. Translucent skin. Under eyes tinted a faint purple. Long, dark tresses of hair falling into his face. Easy to look right through. Moments away from falling and breaking into a million pieces. An imperfect boy made perfectly of glass.

But Matty also knows if he stays here he might go proper nuts. "Whose party?" he asks, not completely sold.

The grin that spreads across Jesse's face makes him uncomfortable for some reason. His stomach turns and Matty forces his eyes shut as he listens to the other speak. "This might seems shady, but it's at my dealer's. The nice one. He keeps inviting me. 'm curious. Nobody else will go with me."

Wonder why. Matty wants to point out that the idea is shitty and he didn't want to party with Jesse's dealer. But he just sighs, letting his shitty friend with shitty ideas and shitty cleaning habits convince him to attend some shitty party with some even shittier people. Lovely.

So, as he's dragged outside after Jesse spends way too long getting ready for a party where his girlfriend probably won't be present, Matty looks up to the sky. His heart sinks a bit when the realization of his reality hits him. There's no stars out tonight. Granted, the London air is polluted enough that they could very well be hidden from the common eye, but it still serves the purpose of souring his mood further.

Jesse yaps on about something in his somewhat annoying American accent, completely oblivious to the state Matty's in. Said boy tunes out, not really interested in hearing about how Devon is the next Coco Chanel god damn it. Really, Matty needs to find him a man as supportive as Jesse. The bloke is practically always about to burst with either shameless promotions on his bird's behalf or all that goopy relationship shit. Nasty.

It's about another twenty minutes or so until they reach a shady looking flat complex. The building looks like it could fall down with a hint of the slightest breeze which, considering the shoddy weather that's usually present this time of year, is far from a good thing. It's completely dark albeit one apartment towards the top of its hazardous loom.

To Matty's utter dismay, Jesse grabs his wrist, tugging him towards the Apartment Complex of Death. "C'mon, man," the other man urges, giving Matty a look he can't quite discern in the darkness but can guess that it's not one of amusement.

"Into there? You're having a fucking laugh aren't you, mate?"

Jesse rolls his eyes, looking back to the loathsome building. "What's wrong with it?"

Matty snorts, arching a brow. "I only agreed to a shady party with your shady drug dealer," he begins, glaring at the other man. "Not a shady party with your shady drug dealer in a shady building that looks as if it's about to collapse on itself."

Another eye roll is directed Matty's way as well as the assurance that he is indeed a giant fucking dickhead before he's being tugged along to a probable death that even his self-proclaimed emo ass is unready to welcome.

Matty may be teetering on the edge of suicidal, but he doesn't want to go out like this.

But, there's no way out of this crummy party. Least, not in Matty's muddled up brain. Arguing with Jesse would be pointless. And, maybe a part of him is curious. So, he accepts fate and let's himself be dragged into the Metal Cage of Death (the elevator) and through the Eternal Abyss of Death (the hallway leading up to Shady Drug Dealer's place) and finally to the entrance to the Dismal Dungeon of Death (Shady Drug Dealer's place). He makes sure to stand slightly behind Jesse so said man can get get stabbed first, leaving time for Matty's escape from crazy Shady Drug Dealer.

Jesse rings the doorbell and a minute or two later, a literal fucking tree yeti opens the door.

"George!" Jesse greets, smiling widely as, in a display of non-professionalism, Tree Yeti the Shady Drug Dealer pulls him in for a hug.

"Jess! Glad you made it," he drawls out before pulling away and offering a wide grin.

"'Course," Jesse says, returning the smile. "Hope you don't mind I brought a friend."

And. Well. Matty wants to hit Jesse for drawing attention to him. Especially considering Tree Yeti the Shady Drug Dealer's eyes are taking in his body as if he's studying every little detail so he can commit it to memory. Freak.

"Totally okay," Yeti says, grinning as he sticks out his hand to Matty. "I'm George."

Matty stares at the awaiting hand, frowning as he crosses his arms in a show of defiance. "Matty," he states, giving the other man a look.

"Matty," Jesse hisses as George laughs, making the dark haired boy prickle a bit.

"It's cool," the fucker states, as if Matty is some perpetual child. "I don't mind. Why don't you two come in?"

He stands aside, and Jesse grabs onto Matty's wrist, dragging him inside to the party. It's much too crowded for Matty's liking, and he knows he'll end up getting separated from Jesse sooner than later. Still, he lets himself be taken over to where the alcohol, watching as Jesse makes them drinks.

"Y'know, you don't have to be such an ass," Jesse comments casually, looking up as he pours some rum into a solo cup.

Matty scoffs, taking the drink from his friend once it has a decent amount of Coca Cola mixed in. "Me? An ass? Never," he quips, raising the cheap plastic to his lips.

Jesse rolls his eyes, taking a swig of whatever the fuck it is he likes to drink. "Y'know, Matty, this is why your social circle is so limited," he comments, giving him a look. "You're not the best at first impressions."

Matty just shrugs, not really wanting to get into it. He tends to rub people the wrong way; whether or not he does it on purpose is a completely different matter. It's a lot easier to keep closed off if those trying to break in are rather limited in number. Makes friendships extra special. "Maybe I'm just a pill that's hard for people to swallow," he muses, arching a brow as he waits for Jesse to challenge the notion.

Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I only want the best for you, dude," he settles on, and it sounds very much like a lie to Matty's well-trained ear.

So, Matty lifts his cup up in a mock cheer before leaving Jesse to his own devices, searching for a suitable place to sulk and wish he hadn't come to this shit show.

He finds a badly stained (p)leather couch and decides to make this his home for the night, sitting down and taking another sip of alcohol.

From the outside, the place had seemed so brightly lit. Now that he's inside, Matty realizes it's not the case; really, it's quite dim in here. And the people seem dull; completely lackluster. They're all just boring, black and white figures. The whole scene is completely gray scale. Not a splash of color.

Just like everything else life has provided thus far, the night is disappointing.

Suddenly, a weight drops beside him, and Matty can feel a warm body pressing to the side of his own; definitely something that he's not okay with. Looking over, he finds the host grinning at him like he's expecting something out of him. Matty wants to slap him.

"Hi there, Matty."

Matty stares at this man, this George, with upmost scrutiny. His eyes scan over the smug-looking  face then focus in on the messily dyed hair. It looks extremely fine; he expects it's softer than someone like George deserves.

"What do you want?" he asks, wanting to shift away from the dealer's tense gaze. He's not sure where Jesse went off to. Not sure what he could be doing without Devon here.

"To offer you a party favor," George says, as if it's obvious. He holds out the palm of his hand, revealing two small orange pills. "One for each of us."

Matty frowns, eying the pills suspiciously. "What's the catch?" he asks, eyes flitting up to the other's face.

"Just your company."

That doesn't sit well with Matty. Doesn't understand why this actual cross of a tree and a man who makes money via illegal practices wants anything to do with a mousy boy of his caliber.

But he says nothing, instead grabbing one of the pills and popping it into his mouth before washing it down with his drink. He decidedly ignores the wolfish grin George directs his way as he swallows the other pill dry in victory.

About fifteen minutes later, Matty relaxes back a bit more as alcohol and George's party favor start to kick into his system, finishing off his drink as George begins to ramble on about whatever it is drug yielding trees spend their time on. The smaller of the two doesn't really listen, too intent on the feeling of his limbs relaxing into pools of gold. He isn't sure why gold; just that the skin seems to be sparkling. Or maybe his head's just a bit fuzzy. Either way. He's gold, Ponyboy.

"And, like, I'm getting too that point in life where I've seen everything. I could probably do anything if I really wanted to," George is saying, prompting Matty to roll his eyes.

"So that's why you deal drugs, obviously," Matty retorts before zoning out as soon as the other begins to defend himself. He's a bit out of sorts. His mind is whirling and the heat the dealer's body is giving out almost feels welcome. Like it's inviting him in, trying to wrap him until his whole body melts away, leaving him as nothing close to who he was but perhaps worth much, much more.

Maybe that's why Matty leans in a bit into this stranger's space, body becoming lax as the idea of melting away overtakes him. He wants to be worth so much more than he is; hurts that he's not. Or maybe it doesn't. Matty's not sure. He feels numb. Knows he's supposed to feel happy. But he just can't seem to. And he feels like crying. He's gonna keep it in; gotta hold his tears back. He's at a party; who cries at parties? He's not Melanie Martinez, for fuck's sake.

"Are you crying, mate?"

Apparently Matty and Melanie have a lot more in common than previously thought.

"No," Matty sniffles, rubbing at his eyes.

George snorts, pulling Matty in closer to him. Matty has half a mind to pull away, but the other man seems to draw him in. Lulls him into a false sense of security. He should definitely go find Jesse. Beg him to take him home. Maybe these drugs are starting to fuck with him badly.

But, Matty finds he wants someone to draw him in closer. Someone who's not going to bull shit him. Or, someone to simply distract him. Make him feel something for a little bit.

So, Matty presses his face to George's neck, letting out a shaky breath. "Fine, I'm crying," he admits, rubbing at his eyes.

"Why?" George asks and Matty snorts, not raising his head. "Like it matters."

George says nothing for a few moments before he lifts a hand, pushing Matty away before tilting his chin up. "It matters. You can tell me, if you'd like," he says in a soft tone, offering up a somewhat forced smile.

Matty takes a moment, studying the other's features. The man next to him is pale; not quite so translucent as Matty himself, though. His hair is a complete mess, unstyled and unkempt. His squinty eyes are dark; dilated pupils blending in with the iris. His lips are a soft pink and painted across in a thin manner. He's got a variety of feckless and moles scattered across his face. That's when Matty realizes something. The lack of stars in the night sky can be traced back to George. He's got a whole constellation bled into skin. Fuck, probably has whole galaxies that call his body home.

George is beautiful in a way that makes stars want to imprint their souls onto him for his whole lifetime.

So, Matty leans in, pressing his lips against the other's for a moment. He pulls away, gauging the other's face for a reaction. He finds an expectant grin awaiting him and then he's pulled back in, lips more forceful and expecting than his own had been.

"I wanted to do that the moment I saw you," flirts George after pulling away for a breath, thumb rubbing at Matty's cheek and his brown eyes staring through the elder.

Matty just rolls his eyes; this man is so full of himself and incredibly cheesy. Yet he's also like a magnet, and he's pulling Matty into him and. Well. Who's Matty to try to stop said attraction when it feels so damn good? It's only one night.

Though, in retrospect, it very well could just be whatever it was George gave him that's allowing such delusions to blossom despite the lack of sunshine. Either way.

"You better shut up and kiss me before I fucking leave," Matty warns. The threat is mostly empty, though; even if he George's bullshit continues, he's in too much of a comfortable liquid state to bother mustering up the willpower to leave the beat up old couch.

Still, George immediately complies with the curly-haired bloke's demands, lips pressing back against lips and fingertips grazing sharp cheekbones. The tender way in which this odd man kisses him tempts Matty to consider labeling the kiss 'lovely', but the setting he finds himself surrounded by begs the term 'grimy'. So, ever one for categorizing his thoughts but never organizing his life, Matty settles for 'a pretty kind of dirty' and presses forward, hand reaching back up to the nape of the other's neck.

They kiss like this for awhile, in a grungy flat with shady characters acting as a backdrop in the crappy plays that are their lives. Matty is content like this, can feel those thoughts and feelings from earlier in the night thawing and mixing in with the rest of him. Becoming the least of his concerns. His gravity seems centered on George, and he wants to pour himself into the other and fill every crevice in his mind. Kind of wants George to do the same to him.

Eventually, Matty wills himself to pull away, breathing in a labored fashion as his mind slowly tried to reach some sort of conclusion for this scene of his life. He's a bit off from grasping it, though, so he instead bites his lip, eyes closing a moment as he tries to fish out any solid form of thought from the sea inside his head. When he fails this, too, he opens his eyes back up to discover George looking at him in what might be considered a strange fashion.

"What?" He asks, frowning as George swallows, offering a quaint smile.

"Nothing. Trying to figure out if it's too presumptuous to ask if you'd want to take this somewhere a bit more private."

Matty had been expecting this sort of response, yet he's lacking in an answer. Part of him wants to stay here so he can melt into the cracks of the furniture, leaving a distant memory for George to trace back to. Another part wants to go, to lay down his thoughts somewhere and forget them for a night. He's torn, wanting a bit of both. Not really wanting to give all of himself away to George but maybe just a piece. Something he's deemed forgettable that might mean something to someone else.

So he nods slowly, taking in how George's face lights up. "I'm not having, like, proper sex with you, though."

To Matty's surprise and George's credit, the taller just laughs and puts his weight into Matty's space. "I'll take whatever I can get from you, angelface."

Matty snorts, not bothering to nudge the other off of him. "Okay, well, you should get off of me  if that's what you really want," he remarks in a snarky tone, drawing a fucking giggle from the other.

Before he can properly attempt to reprimand the other, George is pulling Matty up and wrapping an arm around him so he's tucked into his side. He's a bit annoyed by the fact that he fits so well into this shady bloke's side, but instead of pulling away, he lets himself meld into the other's side. Lets their bodies merge together as the taller guides him. Matty's not sure how he's able to actually walk straight, but he's sure that it's only thanks to George support.

Somehow, though, they make it to a small, dingy looking bedroom. Matty pulls away and trudges over to the bed, flopping down as George shuts the door behind them. For a moment, he feels as if he's sinking into the uncomfortable mattress, body taking up the space between the rigid bed springs. He lets his eyelids shut, not opening them when the bed shifts with George's weight. Keeps them closed as hands move his head to their lap and fingers card through his dark curls. Let's him tug at the knots, trying to brush them out. His blunt nails scratch over his scalp occasionally, and he wants to arch up into, content to stay like this all night. A guttural noise slips out past his lips, drawing a laugh from the other man.

"You're like a kitty cat," George muses, and when Matty forces his eyes open he's met with the other grinning down at him, a flicker of amusement shining behind his eyes.

Matty just blinks, reaching a hand up graze his fingers against George's cheek. The other moves his head, catching Matty's digits between his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a playful manner but just seems slightly awkward. Still, it draws a laugh from the smaller, his nose wrinkling. "Now who's the fucking feline?" He teases, dropping his hand down.

George just pouts down at Matty, bending awkwardly so he can attempt kissing him from such an awful angle. It's not the most pleasant experience he's had when it comes to snogging, but Matty supposes it's the thought that counts.

When George pulls away, Matty smiles up at him, eyes still shut. The dealer runs his hand through the silky waves of hair, the ringlets shining despite the dullness of the single overhead light. "I want to kiss you more," George states, earning a grunt of recognition from Matty. "Kind of hard like this, though."

That earns a snort from Matty, but he sits up anyways, moving so he's sat cross-legged in front of George. The other grabs his hand, bringing it up for a kiss. Matty arches his brow, frowning. "You're weird," he comments, and then George is pulling him back in for a kiss.

Thin lips move against each other, tongue meeting tongue. It doesn't take long for their positions to alter; George on his back with Matty sat on his lap. The larger's hands come to rest on his boney hips, thumbs digging into his sides. Matty can feel him hardening beneath him, and when he places his hand on the other's chest, he can also feel the erratic beating of his heart. It feeds Matty's ego, this fact. Knowing that he's the one to get George wound up like this, that he's hard for Matty of all people.

So, Matty rolls his hips down.

George's grip tightens, and he groans into Matty's mouth, and he pulls back to mutter a 'fuck' before his lips attach to Matty's neck. The elder tilts his head back slightly, giving him more access to scatter red marks on his pale skin. Leave his own constellation now as evidence to go along with tomorrow's memories.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," George mutters against his skin, hands moving to slide under the other's shirt, rubbing up and down his sides. Matty let's him, hands moving to tangle in messy dirty blonde hair whilst he continues to grind down.

Doesn't take long for both to want more, George's fingers moving to tweak Matty's nipples. This brings forth a high-pitched whine from Matty, who squirms a bit under this new touch.

George, though, just grins up at the elder, twisting the pink numbs between the pads of his fingers. Matty let's out a groan, rolling his hips down and letting his lips part slightly.

Lips meet Matty's neck once more as fingers continue their assault and a sigh is drawn past his lips. George nips down, pulling away to look up at Matty imploringly. It's obvious he wants to take, probably not one to give but definitely one to receive. Matty knows he gives too much. Knows he'll lose himself eventually.  
But it's not incentive enough to stop him from helping George get his shirt off and exploring the universe his with his tongue and hands.

Matty reaches George's lower stomach and his eyes flicker up. The other man is watching him, eyes betraying his excitement. Matty wets his lips, starting to undo his jeans. George tries to help, lifting his arse off the bed as Matty tugs his jeans off. And fuck; it takes Matty having to undress the bloody knobhead to realize just how long his legs actually are. It feels like an eternity until he's pulling away to let the dealer attempt to kick his jeans off (spoiler: Matty has to finish taking them off for him).

Then it's just a fully clothed Matty staring down at a mostly bare George. The only thing from stopping his eyes from taking in the whole universe is a pair of boxer briefs.

So, Matty ducks down, lips coming in contact with said barrier as he mouths along George's prominent bulge. The other just lets out a sort of whine, eyes closing as Matty continues his teasing.

Before too long, Matty decides to have mercy on the poor bloke beneath him and rid him of his underwear, leaving him fully naked before a pair of hungry eyes. Matty ducks down once more, kitten-licking at the tip of George's cock and eliciting a groan from the man. From there, Matty sort of just licks at the whole of the length, holding the base of the shaft in his hand as his eyes stay trained on George.

A large hand goes to the back of his head and fingers tangle in his dark locks, encouraging Matty to wrap his thin lips around George's cock. His tongue swirls around the head as he studies the other man's face. George's eyes have screwed shut and his mouth is agape, looking completely blissed out. This reaction sits well with Matty and he decides to take more of the larger man in, sinking down further on his cock. His tongue slides against the underside of his shaft, starting to bob his head up and down.

Despite the fact that there's a large group of people right outside the room, George makes no attempts to keep quiet, moans spilling past his lips as Matty works his mouth.

Matty doesn't stop, though, and it doesn't take long until George wants more, hips bucking up. Matty gags, eyes watering, but he takes it anyways. A few moments later, he pulls off, lips shiny with spit. "You can fuck my mouth," he informs, biting his lip and studying George's face a moment. The dealer's face is flushed and he looks completely out of it, but he gives a quick nod, hand going to tug at Matty's curls impatiently.

Matty sinks back down, looking upwards as George starts to thrust up into his mouth, dick hitting the back of his throat. And, well, he's only human, and George is massive. His eyes may or may not tear up a bit more than before and he gags a little, but it's okay because he's feeling something and that's enough to get him going. And George seems gone enough not to care if he's choking someone on his giant cock.

So, like the good boy he occasionally strives to be, Matty takes it, inhaling sharply through his nose and keeping his jaw slack. George moans unabashedly, fingers holding steadfast to dark curls. Matty watches, takes it all in: how pale space turns pink, how squinty eyes shut tight, how thin, pink lips have been bitten red and fall agape. It's all beautiful. All so far away. Far from his understanding and far from his league.

George, despite the shit he's gotten himself into, is more than likely still so pure and naive. Matty is jaded, older than the twenty-eight years he holds count to. Knows love and dating is a waste of time; that boys with galaxies etched onto their skin only want to fuck ghostly boys with sunken eyes and bratty demeanors. He's a novelty, something nice to look at and someone warm to fuck. A piece of memorabilia packed away on a cluttered shelf somewhere that only ever crosses your mind when you accidentally stumble upon it while packing things up.

Remarkably unremarkable.

So, Matty takes George's cock like the trooper he is, even let's him come down his throat without complaining. Lets George pull him in for a sloppy, excited kiss, barely reaching a quarter of the enthusiasm the dealer seems to harvest.

He lets George unzip his jeans and reach under his briefs to wrap a large hand around his cock, lips moving down to Matty's neck as he starts to slowly jerk him off.

And. Well. It's nice.

Matty closes his eyes, lets his mind float as his body indulges in blissful sin. He can't help but think this is all surreal. Not just the way George moves his hand up his shaft, pausing to thumb at his slit and illicit a soft noise from him, but life in general. It's a dream where he's barely making it by. Fighting everyday to stay alive only to reach the inevitable closing chapter of death. It's a joke, really. What's the point of living if it's all going to end? Though the way George tugs at his hair at the same time he squeezes the base of Matty's cock is delightful and allows him to be shoved closer to orgasm, it's certainly not worth living for. It's dragging his attention from demeaning thoughts though, because even Matty finds the drawl of arousal to be more enlightening than his pessimistic thoughts.

George is still sloppily kissing and marking up his neck, and it's not long before their lips are connected and his hand's speeding up around Matty. The smaller man whimpers, focusing all his attention on getting off. It doesn't take much longer; it's not often he has a hand around him that isn't his. So, with an arched back and a moan, Matty comes undone, George working him through it.

Matty pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down and pointedly ignoring the way George stares at his face. After a few moments, he tucks himself back in and zips up, moving to sit up and swing his skinny legs over the side of the bed.

"You wanna spend the night?" George asks, a tilt of hope in his voice.

As much as he'd love to stay, Matty finds the idea to be simply insane. He chews on his lip, looking back at George as he considers the temptation before shaking his head no. "Jesse's probably missing me."

George's face noticeably falls, but Matty acts as if he hasn't noticed, getting up from the bed and heading for the door.

"Will I get to see you again?" George calls out softly.

Matty turns to look at him, only to be met by a dejected looking boy with big, sad puppy dog eyes. He shrugs, swallowing as he looks down. He can't meet the others gaze without feeling intensely guilty. Which is dumb. He doesn't know George. Only knows that he's Jesse's dealer and that his face reads as well as his worn copy of 'Zadig'. He owes him nothing. Certainly doesn't owe him spared feelings. Really, it'd be crueler to lead him on, to feed into whatever delusional fantasy the druggie's got cooked up in that doped up mind of his.

So, Matty looks up and swallows. "Probably not. I don't get out much, and if I need anything Jesse can get it from you," he says quickly, turning away so he doesn't have to see any of what George is feeling.

The next step is turning the bedroom door handle, stepping out of George's life and back into the massive throng of people.

And, if on the way back to their shared apartment whilst ignoring Jesse's intoxicated ramblings, Matty looks up at the smoggy night sky and pictures a galaxy he'd touched only hours before, drawing tears, well, nobody really needs to know, now, do they?

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure I started writing this at the end of January?? I'm literally the worst at finishing things. I just haven't the ability to write anything half-decent as of lately, but this was glaring at me to finish it and a professor once told me to keep on writing; even if the outcome is shit, it's better than not writing at all. So, I present you all with 5.5k words of said shit. 
> 
> Any constructive criticism/general commentary is welcome. Kudos/recs are always really rad. 
> 
> I originally posted this on my wattpad; NowEverybodysDead
> 
> Okay well George is the best I really want a George he's number one don't lie to yourselves bye.


End file.
